Last word
by Clarounette
Summary: Post NT arc. Akihito is in trouble... again. Warning: possible character death, violence, language. Ceci n'est pas une fic nouvelle, c'est une traduction de Dernier mot.
1. Last word

Author note: Finally it's done. It's just the first chapter. I hope you won't be too impatient because the next one will take time... I have to thank my two wonderful beta, **portisheart ** and **darkroarke**. They did a really good job, and any remaining mistake would be mine.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

"Shit..."

With his back against a concrete wall, he was looking at the sky. Myriads of stars were still visible, little bright spots on the darkness of the firmament. But the horizon was slowly lightening, announcing the end of the night. Would he even be able to see a new day beginning?

* * *

He'd received a letter a week earlier.

It was an ordinary day. He'd woken up quite prematurely and cooked a little something for his breakfast. Then he'd begun to sort out the pictures he'd taken the past few days. Nothing thrilling: a couple of weddings, some boring local festivities, a charity gala... Just assignments. Nothing personal.

Since he'd been back from Hong Kong, Asami had forbidden him to carry on with his dangerous activities. He wasn't allowed to chase criminals anymore. It was pissing him off. A lot.

But he didn't want to disobey the man who made a long journey to rescue him, the man who got wounded because of him. He'd saved his life. That was the least the young man could do. And... Well he didn't want to admit it, but he was also afraid to endanger Asami again. He should always be the only one facing the consequences of his actions.

As he still had to pay the rent, he was accepting almost anything he was asked to do, from family pictures to cosplay contests... But he missed the rush of adrenalin, resulting from when he would be hid behind an alley to spy on a suspicious meeting and would risk to be caught.

So there he was, checking the negatives to choose the ones to develop, when he heard a noise coming from his entrance. He got up to see what was at the door. Apparently, someone had slid an envelope under his front door. A simple one, that was white, unstamped, and without any kind of information about the sender. However, he decided to take a look, even though he knew his curiosity could cause some trouble, as he often experienced.

A simple sheet of white paper was inside the envelope with a few words written on it: 'bribery', as well as a date and an address. The address was located on the docks...

'Why is it always on the docks with these fucking yakuza?' he thought.

* * *

That was where he was now. On the docks, behind large boxes of who knows what. His salvation might be on the other side of those wooden boxes and containers, but he didn't have the strength to try anything. He had been sitting in a pool of his own blood for quite some time and it kept spreading. Only God knew how long he would stay awake. The pain had faded away already. The lower half of his body was just strangely numb by now. He wasn't even sure if he was still conscious. He could only hope that the workers of this part of the port would find him when they would arrive at daybreak. Just another hour, more or less.

* * *

It had been too much of a temptation. This could be the chance of his life, the scoop he was looking for.

He had let go of the idea of setting a trap for Asami several months ago. First, because he knew the man now and he wasn't sure he was capable of doing that. And... He didn't want to anymore.

He had denied what was bothering him for a long time. But since Hong Kong, he couldn't do it any longer. He had fallen in love with the bastard, God help him.

For weeks he had kept his feelings secret because he doubted they would be accepted as enthusiastically as he dreamed of. He was simply enjoying each moment he could share with his torturer. He kept playing cat and mouse with Asami, looking displeased when the man caught him but secretly wishing for it.

His reactions to Asami's brutal touch had changed too. He didn't hide his pleasure anymore. Seeing the bodyguards' faces when he crossed them in the hallway, it seemed he could be heard from far away. Neither did he hesitate to kiss the older man who was cold and distant by day but passionate at night. Sometimes the young man initiated sex. He even did some research on the internet and surprised Asami with a couple of tricks he had learned. Not that the photographer thought they were new for the businessman... But his face told the young man how Asami enjoyed them coming from him. Not just his face, by the way...

One night, after a long tiring day, he went to see Asami at Club Sion. The man was in the middle of an important meeting with a powerful businessman and had made him wait at the bar. Immediately, he felt piercing eyes on him. Him and his colorful shirt opened on a khaki T-shirt, his old jeans and his sneakers... amongst ladies dressed in evening gowns and men in Armani suits. He was even more embarrassed after he heard one of those rich people laughing with contempt. The laugh was obviously addressed to him, no doubt about that. So he ordered a cocktail, just to have something to do while waiting.

But the negotiation took longer than expected and when Asami joined him he was finishing his fourth glass. The lights of the club were making his head throb, the music was too loud, and his tongue was beginning to feel a bit coated. He was about to order another cocktail to cure this when Asami grabbed his arm and sighed:

"You know you're not good with alcohol. Look at you now."

"It was boring without you," he answered, flinging his arms around the yakuza.

The gesture surprised Asami. However, he took the young man in his arms and signaled his secretary to prepare the car. When they arrived at the parking lot, the limousine was waiting. Asami installed the photographer at the back before getting in. As soon as he sat down, the young man jumped on him. He had a feeling of déjà vu. But it wasn't despair that could be seen in those hazel eyes, it was adoration. He was so sure about it, that he let a smirk appear on his lips. He kept observing him, letting the photographer do what he wanted.

The young man sat on his lap. He put his hands on his shoulders and bent his head to kiss him. The kiss was shy, the lips just brushing against each other. A few moments later, their tongues were playing together, touching and tasting each other leisurely. Asami pulled out and looked deeply into his young lover's eyes.

"Can you explain your behavior tonight?"

"It's nothing. I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're very forward, though you used to do anything to avoid me."

"That's because I love you, bastard."

When he realized what he'd said, he blushed. Then he went back to the other side of the back seat of the limousine and watched the yakuza's reaction out of the corner of his eye.

The man hadn't moved an inch and was smiling victoriously. However he saw no warmth in Asami's eyes. His eyes were watering and he yelled at the driver to stop. With a shake of his head, Asami allowed the driver to stop the car. When the car stopped, he let the photographer get out without a word and looked at him while he flied through Tokyo's streets.

* * *

Fuck, he was dying on an abandoned pier, and he couldn't think of anything else but that asshole. And now he was crying.

The yakuza may be an asshole, but he was HIS asshole. The young man understood that he might leave this life, but he hadn't even received an answer to his confession. Was he a little bit important in the older man's life? Would he regret him? Or would he replace him with a bimbo or another brat?

Asami had saved him from Fei Long, but maybe it didn't mean anything. Maybe he was only a pawn in Asami and Fei Long's chess game. Maybe those embraces, those caresses, could have been given to anyone else. Maybe even to Fei Long.

Despite his growing weakness, thinking about the Chinese man was making him angry. And he wasn't even responsible for his coming death.

* * *

He had to leave his apartment about 2 hours prior to the meeting. So he was closing his front door at about 8:00 pm, his treasured bag with his camera in it hanging from his shoulder, when he saw a silhouette at the end of the hallway out of the corner of his eye. Asami was keeping him tailed, it seemed. It wouldn't be easy to leave the thug behind. But he had to try or he would loose the scoop.

He suddenly turned around toward the guy, making him hiding himself a little more, hence losing sight of him for a few moments. 'It seems he's a newbie, I should be able to shake him off' he thought. He dashed in the opposite direction. He went down the stairs which led to the hall, listening to the heavy steps and the bunch of curses following him. He went through the hall, still running. Once in the streets, he turned towards the nearest alley. He rushed into it, sweating a lot, and ran to the wooden wall at the end of the lane. He glanced behind him, almost laughing at the disappointed face of his pursuer, and threw his bag over the wall. He jumped over it, landing in an enormous trash can. It belonged to the restaurant at the corner of the street and was always filled with peels and waste. Nothing more agreeable to land on, if you put the smell aside.

'Shit I'll stink for hours once again'. As he was getting back his camera, he heard a thump against the wall. It seemed the thug almost reached him. But obviously, he would never be able to climb up the wall like the photographer did. He heard the goon cursing and shouted: "See you, asshole!" Then he resumed his running to the docks.

He arrived about an hour later. The port wasn't actually very far from his apartment. He had decided to retrace his steps repeatedly to be sure there weren't more of Asami's henchmen following him. When he was certain nobody was after him, he went to the warehouse in which the meeting would take place. Stopping at a few meters from the building, he looked around to choose a good place to hide. He decided to go behind a pile of boxes at the corner of the warehouse. There was just a little space left so he could watch without being seen. He had to wait for about an hour and he spent the time remaining checking his equipment. Nothing more annoying than to miss a one in a lifetime scoop because the camera's battery dies. Then he waited.

He didn't wait for long, because the bandits had decided to be ahead of schedule. But their look surprised the photographer: they looked more like a bunch of lowlifes than classy yakuza. Their weapons weren't usual either: iron bars and planks. 'Maybe it's not them' he thought. He chose to stay hidden. But the crooks weren't leaving and seemed to wait for something… or someone. They separated and began to search through the area. One of them came very close to the young man. Then the photographer realized. "Fuck it was a trap!'

Too late, the thug had seen him and yelled at his friends. The photographer tried to get away but they soon caught up with him. One of the guys kept his hands firmly behind his back, while the one who seemed to be the boss, walked towards him.

"Fooled you pretty good, right? You must be stupid to let yourself be caught so easily."

"What do you want?"

"To teach a lesson to Asami.

"That's not my name. You can let me go."

His head was flung to the left when he was slapped pretty hard. The punch cut his lip and he spat a little bit of blood to the side.

"Of course we know you're not him, do you think we're dumb? But we saw you clinging to him. And… there are rumors, you know. About you having been his whore for a few months."

"I'M NOBODY'S WHORE!"

This time it was a punch to his gut, leaving him gasping for air. He was about to cry out of anger.

"Shit, if you're working for Fei Long, tell him I give him his Asami back!"

"Who's Fei Long? Don't know him. We're working alone, see. No boss. That's why Asami's pissing us off. He owns the whole drug's network, and because of that we can't sell our stuff. So screw him, we decided to show him we're not trash."

'Fuck, don't tell me I'm going to be killed by those shitty little drug dealers. Killed by Fei Long would have been more glorious,' the young man thought.

The one who acted like a big boss made a sign for his fellows, who prepared to hit the photographer. They were swinging their makeshift weapons in the air. "Don't worry, we won't kill you, we just want to show Asami what we're capable of if he screws with us." And they began to hit.

The pain was intense. They all aimed for his legs and his knees. A plank with a remaining nail made a long cut on his calf. The iron bar made the worst damage: the photographer howled when his left knee cap snapped. It seemed it wasn't enough for the leader because, unfortunately, he ordered his band to strike again. This time his right shin took most of the blows and the young man was sure the bone was broken. His legs couldn't hold him anymore and he collapsed on the concrete floor.

Thrilled by the scent of blood like hungry hyenas, two of the lowlifes hit him one more time. The photographer shouted horribly when his thighbone broke and came through his skin, causing a pretty bad wound. It also cut his artery. Then he fainted.

* * *

When he regained consciousness, several hours had passed. There was no trace of the bandits. He couldn't move his legs and he was still well hidden behind the wooden boxes. He was bleeding to death.

The sun was just beginning to rise. The working day on the docks would soon start. But he wouldn't last much longer. Colors were dull, breathing was difficult. He didn't have much hope. Even if someone found him, it was probably too late.

Then he heard steps on the concrete floor. A silhouette appeared in front of him, cutting out the light from the rising sun. He couldn't make it out: it was dark and his sight was fading away.

"Asami?" he whispered. And he closed his eyes.


	2. One more second

He couldn't see the first rays of the sun reflecting on the glass buildings around him. He couldn't see the shops opening their metal shutters. He couldn't see the last party animals staggering on the sidewalks.

His eyes were focused on the road. His hands were nervously gripping the car's wheel. He sped up a bit more. Time was running fast.

* * *

He had arrived at Akihito's apartment less than an hour before.

Kirishima had come in his office at the Sion to tell him that the new employee they had assigned to the photographer's surveillance had failed in his mission: the brat had shaken him off. First, the businessman released his anger on his faithful secretary because he had chosen someone inexperienced for this task, then he had asked to see the guy himself.

As soon as the newbie had entered the room, he had received a violent slap from Asami and had been dismissed permanently. He had been asked not to come to work the next day. The poor guy had left, depressed.

Asami was worried. Since the mishap in Hong Kong, he had forced Akihito to refuse every dangerous job. But he knew the young man: he was addicted to adrenalin. It was certainly why the photographer stayed by his side. He was sure to live exciting adventures with him. Exciting, that was true, but they were very perilous too. And Asami didn't want to endanger the young man again because of his heedlessness. He cared for him. People would even say that he cared too much, that his well known self control was lost against his attachment and that his reactions were strange when they were caused by Akihito.

He had hoped that his company alone would be enough to satisfy the young man, but he had been wrong, obviously. So he had got in his car and had headed to Akihito's apartment.

At the foot of the ageing building, he had parked his car and had taken the elevator to the third floor. The door to his lover's flat was in the middle of the hallway. He had taken out the spare set of keys he had secretly made and had opened the door.

He had been met with a happy mess, an evidence of how lively Akihito could be. Two days worth of dirty dishes were piling up in the sink, some already worn clothes were lying on the floor or on the sofa, and empty cookies boxes were spread over the table. The only clean and well-kept place was the case where his cameras were proudly sitting. Asami had gently smiled.

Then he had begun to search through the apartment, looking for any clue about where the photographer had gone. He didn't have to search for long: he had soon found the white sheet of paper that Akihito had fixed on the fridge with a magnet. Now he knew where to find the young man.

* * *

The gatekeeper at the port's entrance didn't resist for long when he pointed a gun to his face while asking for the gate to be opened. He didn't have time to waste, especially not with a too zealous little employee.

Before him, the light of the rising day was slowly filling the sky. The numbers on the warehouses were passing before his eyes, but not fast enough for his taste. Fear was constricting his heart. He felt he had to speed up. He had once felt the same, when he had been waiting for the right moment to try and save Akihito from Fei Long's claws. But this time he had no reason to be scared, he didn't know if the young man was really in danger. But he had a hunch. A really bad feeling.

It wasn't a good time to lose Akihito. He had so much to tell him. So many things he hadn't said.

* * *

Akihito had come to see him at Club Sion a few days before. It was so unusual that he had been surprised, in a good way. Unfortunately he was having a meeting that had been planned a long time ago and he couldn't cancel it to spend time with the photographer. So he had sent Kirishima to ask him to wait.

When the contract had been signed, he had gone down to the security room. He had sat down in a comfortable chair in front of the screens with a glass of champagne, and had looked for Akihito. He had found him leaning on the counter, a cocktail in his hand. With his flushed face and his shiny eyes, it had been unquestionable that the photographer had been drinking more than he should have.

He had turned on an intercom labelled "bar" located on the right side of the console and had asked: "How many?"

"Already three, this one is the fourth," the barman had answered. Asami had cut off. It was time to go and see the brat.

When he had arrived at the counter, Akihito had literally jumped in his arms. Holding that supple and warm body against him had flustered Asami for a moment, and then he had decided to bring the young man to his apartment to make the most of his current state.

Once in the car, the photographer had been even more pushing. Asami could already feel his blood going to his groin because of the feeling of those wet lips on his. The kiss was delicate and shy. It was new for him who was used to passionate embraces. But he didn't think it was bad. He had the vague feeling he was kissing rose petals, and it was intoxicating. He could feel the young man's desire against his thigh. Maybe Asami had finally won his heart, for him to indulge himself like that.

He was far from being gentle. His lovers often complained about that. He was used to get what he wanted, and he was the same in love: he took. That was what had happened when he first met Akihito. His lovers' gender didn't really matter. He was able to want either men or women. But he had to want them. And God how he had wanted the young photographer when he saw him running away before his eyes! He had managed to have him under his control for three days, and he had made the most of them. But his desire hadn't disappeared. He had once again searched for Akihito. He didn't want to think too much about his feelings, he just wasn't the type: he was a man of action. If his body was telling him he needed Akihito, then he will satisfy it. Plain and simple.

But after the events in Hong Kong, he couldn't hide his attachment to the young man any longer. He had realized the difference between plain desire and deeper feelings… Maybe love? No need to give them a name. What was important was to be sure the photographer was feeling the same.

So that night, in the limousine, Asami had been searching for those feelings in Akihito's hazel eyes, and he thought he had caught a glimpse of them. He wanted to ascertain it, so he had begun to talk.

"Can you explain your behavior tonight?"

"It's nothing. I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're very forward, though you used to do anything to avoid me."

"That's because I love you, bastard."

There it was, the confirmation, those almost harsh words which were hiding the young man's extreme sensibility. He was so happy and relieved that his lips had stretched in a real smile. But Akihito had moved to the end of the seat, looking bothered. Unfortunately, the young man's mind, clouded with alcohol, didn't seem to understand that sign of affection, and a great despair could be seen in his eyes. So when he had told the driver to stop, Asami had let him go, not wanting to scare his young lover even more.

He had watched his delicate silhouette going away silently. In retrospect he thought he should have tried to stop him, to show him once again with his body how much he cared for him. But what he had seen in those hazel's eyes had paralyzed him. He had then decided to leave Akihito a few days to calm down before seeing him again.

Unfortunately things had gone a lot faster and now he was on the docks, driving fast between the big warehouses looking for his lover.

* * *

He finally reached for the building specified on the sheet and went off his car. The sun was now a bit higher in the sky and the orange glow was burning his retinas. The city would soon awaken. And almost eight hours had passed since Akihito had run away from his guardian. Anything could have happened. The photographer could either be drinking a coffee in a bar or salty water at the bottom of the bay.

He was looking around nervously, thinking of where Akihito could be. That's when he saw a brown bag near a pile of boxes. He breathed heavily, wanting to calm down to not feel embarrassed if he found the boy sitting quietly, his back on the wall. Walking slowly, he approached the containers, the sun behind him.

His heart missed a beat when he saw Akihito lying in a pool of his own blood, his face pale and his lips bloodless. The young man looked up at him and whispered: "Asami?" before he closed his bluish lids.

"Oh no, don't let it be too late!" the businessman silently prayed. He put two fingers on the young man's neck: the pulse was weak, but at least it was here. Bending in front of the livid face, he felt a light breeze coming from between his lips. He wasn't lost yet. Akihito's legs seemed misshapen and his jeans were soaked with blood. Apparently the fluid was seeping out from a gash on his thigh. Asami took a little knife in his pocket and cut slowly through the fabric, willing to see how bad Akihito was wounded before deciding anything.

Even though he was used to kill and to watch killing with firearms, he wasn't prepared for what he found: the broken thighbone had pierced through the skin, and the boy's life force was draining through the wound. He got off the ground and unbuckled his belt. He made a makeshift tourniquet out of it. Then, not caring about the indelible stains that blood would leave on his expensive suit, he took the young man in his arms and brought him to his car, noticing the bloody footprints which were taking different directions from the place where he had found Akihito. He put him gently on the backseat, and sat behind the wheel. He started like a rocket and took the road to the nearest hospital.

Like a mantra he was telling himself again and again: "Don't die… Please don't die… Please don't die… My Akihito…"


	3. Epilogue

Author's note: two of my betas, kurosaki9 and randrews25 from LJ, thought my text wasn't understandable enough, and made their own version. If you're interested in reading it, please PM me.

%%%%%

Night had come over Tokyo's restless streets. Idle students going to karaokes and cinemas, employees finishing their tiresome working day with colleagues in bars, nightlife's professionals, everybody was walking in streaming lines in front of the city's lit up façades.

Comfortably sitting at the back of his limo, Asami was sipping his Cognac, staring into space. His cell phone rang. He picked it up.

"Asami speaking… No… Absolutely not." He hanged up without bidding goodbye. He was used to making negociations from his car, and had gotten into the habit of saving his words. He always got straight to the point.

Kirishima glanced back at his boss through the rear-view mirror.

* * *

_My hands tightening around the wheel. Traffic is terrible despite the early hour. I have to keep my head on the task at hand and don't think too much about Akihito's inert body at the back. Seek revenge, as to not cry out of frustration. I pick up the phone._

"_Takaba was attacked at the docks. I'm driving him to the hospital. You're to find the son of a bitch who did this to him!"_

" _Sir?" Kirishima seems confused by my lack of control. Keeping my composure: fail. I hang up before I lose my credibility to my secretary. I trust him to the point of knowing that he would see through the mission I have given him. I run a stoplight. Too bad._

_Buildings are passing by like blurs. I'm slaloming between the cars which are starting to crowd the streets. Hospital spotted! Don't panic. Don't panic._

_

* * *

_The limousine stopped in front of Club Sion. Passer byes were looking at the luxurious car with tinted windows for a minute, before they were on their way.

Kirishima went off the car and opened the door for Asami. The businessman left the car and walked to his club's font door. The impressive stone façade contrasted with the glass-and-steel towers which were standing on each side of the street. The first floor was completely occupied for club purposes while the second floor offered private rooms. The third and last floor was kept for his spacious office and personal accommodations. There, for instance, he had kept Akihito locked up for three days. _Akihito…_ At this point only the club's windows were lighted. The rest of the building was shrouded in darkness.

The car door was slammed behind him. A young valet took the keys out of Kirishima's hands, and the secretary followed his boss.

* * *

_Stop in a hurry when arriving in front of the emergency door. Tires are screeching on the tar. Front wheels are encroached on the sideway. I go off fast, never mind the car still running or the door open. I open the rear door and I take Akihito out. The poor boy is like a dead weight in my arms, but he's still breathing. Shallowly. Don't think about that._

"_Wounded person here! Get a fucking move on!" I yell at the men in white coats. They're going out of the building rapidly as they had taken in my arrival. A stretcher. I set Akihito on it. The nurses shout orders that I don't understand. They place an oxygen mask on his face. I'm overwhelmed with questions. I follow the medics inside the hospital._

_

* * *

_Sion's glass doors opened, and a stunning blonde came out. The two guards greeted her. She took the hem of her elegant black dress in her hand so she could step down the stairs with elegance. Each step she took would let the delicate curves of her legs be seen. At the bottom of the stairs, she looked up to Asami and smiled. She went to him, offering her hand, adorned with crimson nails.

"Asami, what a good surprise!" she said in English.

"Miss Johnson." He said, brushing her pale hand with his lips, bowing respectfully.

"Dad says hello. He enjoyed your last meeting and hopes to make a deal with you shortly."

"I'll contact him soon. Would you please excuse me…" said the man, bowing down quickly before slipping away.

* * *

_A petite blonde woman comes up to me. A white coat, a badge on her chest indicating her specialization: she's a doctor. I take upon myself to not slap her when she prevents me from following the stretcher in the operating room._

"_Excuse-me, I have some questions about that young man. Are you relatives?"_

"_No, he's…" (SAY IT!) "… a friend." (COWARD!) I answer her questions, but I don't know much. I feel useless._

* * *

Asami went through the door nonchalantly, being welcomed by his employees as he strode in. He stopped for a moment by the hostess who was in charge of reception and guiding of clients and guests, to know who was present tonight. Not noticing any remarkable name, he went on to the main room.

A jazz band that had flown in from USA, was playing a sweet and sensual piece. Wall-mounted, well-designed lamps gave off a subdued light. Conversations were coming from the central tables and from the alcoves. Waiters moved skilfully between the sofas and window boxes, leaving the clients' orders on the tables. Two huge aquariums decorated the walls in an ethereal way. Everything was quiet and elegant.

Asami nodded to some entertainment and political celebrities who were enjoying themselves in his club. There was, of course, a more discreet entrance to reach his office without being approached, but he usually walked through the main room to keep in touch with his associates-to-be or the soon-to-be victims of his plots. He went to a mahogany door on which a metallic plaque was reading "Private. Staff only". He opened it.

* * *

_The doctor left several minutes ago already. I pace back and forth in the hallway. My eyes repeatedly return to the swing doors. Beyond them, Akihito, between the grips of life and death._

_Families going through the corridor without a halt. A sick child who's throwing up noisily. A crying baby. Little scratches, trivial things. I would give anything to have Akihito trade places with them! I'm scared._

_My cell rings. A nurse glares coldly at me, pointing at the wall. I follow her finger: a sign that forbid cell phones. I shrug. Whatever. I'm picking up._

"_Sir, we've found the guys who attacked Takaba. What should we do now?" Kirishima's words are reassuring: anything to get my mind off of what's happening behind those doors._

"_Did they talk?"_

"_Yes. It seems they acted against Takaba-san to get revenge against you."_

"_Kill them." I don't even hang up. I fling my cell against the wall, growling. It explodes, throwing tiny pieces everywhere. The nurse was frightened. She cried. It makes me glad. But I still feel guilty. 'I'm so sorry, Akihito'._

* * *

Even though there were only three floors, an elevator had been installed to reach the private accommodations. Asami got off and walked through the hallway to reach his office door.

Behind him, Suoh, who had followed him since his arrival, took place near the lift cage. Asami had so many enemies. He had to be protected almost at all times. Suoh was his most loyal bodyguard, and the most knowledgeable. The businessman was sure nothing could happen to him if Suoh was right beside him. A glance at his impressive musculature, at his tall frame and at his impassive-cold-face was enough to render the most aggressive of people speechless.

Asami opened the heavy door to his office and was welcomed with darkness. He walked blindly between the sparse furniture towards the window, not bothering to turn on a light. Night was his playing field and he wasn't afraid of it. But it had lost some of its power in this modern world: outside, everything was bright with light and noise, even at this late hour. Leaning on the windowsill, Asami looked down at the shops and restaurants that held multicoloured signs, at the cars' headlights which were leaving red and yellow trails while driving through the streets… And the darkness was backing down because of those bright attacks.

* * *

_I've been waiting in the corridor for a little more than an hour. Kirishima arrived a few minutes ago and reassured me that I didn't have any more to fear from the lowlifes who had attacked Takaba. Sigh. He looks away._

_The light above the swinging doors is turned off. I hurry to meet with the surgeon who's going out. Red. A lot of red. Even with the man's green coat, I recognize the colour. A tired look in his eyes. No, it can't be._

"_Are you mister Asami?" ask the man. I nod, speechless._

"_We did everything we could, but his heart couldn't hold out for any longer. He had lost too much blood. We stopped the resuscitation. I'm sorry."_

_I can't hear him anymore. A chair. BAM! Against the wall. I howl out of rage._

_Kirishima has jumped. Our eyes meet. I don't know what he's reading in mine, but he looks distressed._

_I close my eyes. Breathe in… Breathe out… I leave the hospital, Kirishima following me. My car's still here, I don't even look at it. I need to walk._

* * *

His forehead against the glass, Asami sighed, then straightened his back. He went to sit at his desk, on the comfortable black-leather armchair. He turned on a little lamp in front of him, the rest of the room still basking in the dark. He thought he saw a silhouette moving in the darkness. He knew it was just a figment of his imagination. A mere ghost. He sighed again. Fighting a losing battle, he plunged his hand into his suit's pocket and took out his pack of cigarettes. He put one between his lips and lit up the end with a golden lighter. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the taste of the tobacco filling his lungs. He closed his eyes for a second.

Silence was heavy in this room. The street's noise couldn't penetrate through the thick glass of the window. The darkness and silence surronding him gave him the distinct feeling of being trapped in a mausoleum. Ironically enough, it almost felt like the truth. He had lost so much that night…

He crushed his cigarette in an ashtray and called his secretary through the intercom on his desk.

"Kirishima, I'm waiting for your report."

"Yes sir, I'm coming right away."

As soon as he had cut the line, someone knocked on the door. His secretary, a man you'd come to respect because of his stature and his serious look behind his glasses, came in with files under his arm. The man wasn't surprised by the darkness surrounding the room. He walked to the desk.

"Should I make a report about this week's results, sir?"

"No, just a quick statement, then leave the files on my desk."

"Yes sir."

Kirishima went quickly through the files to recollect and choose information to tell his boss.

"It seems we have a spectacular development in current drug sales. This month's profits increased about 15% in relation to last month's. The reasons for this sudden success are still…"

"Thank you, Kirishima, you may leave" Asami interrupted abruptly. Surprised by the businessman's tone, the secretary walked out silently.

Asami knew why that field was so successful. After Akihito's attack, his aggressors had been slaughtered. A lot of people in the underworld saw this as the disposal of possible competitors and little sellers had decided to flee away from the city. Buyers had been forced to turn to him. But all these thoughts made him remember the circumstances of his lover's death and threw him more and more into a painful gloom. He lit up another cigarette.

* * *

_After walking for hours, he had gone back home, taken a shower and changed into a different suit before heading back to his club. He had to absorb himself in his work as to forget what happened. Of course it didn't work. Sitting behind his desk, paperwork strewn out in front of him, he couldn't stop seeing Akihito's bloody body laying down on the dock, or his extremely livid face when he had put him down on the stretcher._

_He had been afraid of being officially mixed up in the young photographer's death and of being accountable to the police – who was waiting for him to make a mistake to lock him up. So he got rid of everything that would prove his involvement. Even the medics had been bribed or threatened to make them forget that he had been in the emergency room. He would have given anything to be able to forget the same way…_

_Kirishima was informing him every day of the investigation's progress, and he knew that Akihito's corpse was kept so they could make an autopsy after his death in the hospital. But the young man's family soon asked for the remains so that they could lay him to rest with dignity. So, not a week after he carried his dying lover in his arms, Asami would see him again, in as tragic circumstances as this time._

_He arrived in front of the little house of the Takaba. Build in the outskirts, it took advantage of the quiet and restful atmosphere. The dashing white façade was effectively hiding the grief inside. If he hadn't known what was waiting for him in it, he would have been glad to enter a house so peaceful and well held. But in that case, he was afraid to cross the threshold. Though he couldn't back down. He knocked on the door._

_A small woman with light hair and hazel eyes opened. He bowed._

"_Mrs Takaba, I suppose."_

"_You suppose right. To whom have I the pleasure of speaking?"_

"_I'm a friend of your son. I came to… tell him goodbye."_

_Akihito's mother looked at him for a moment. She never had seen a man like him in his son's circle of friends. His dark suit seemed expensive, and she couldn't deny his natural elegance and his aura of charisma. It wasn't possible that that man could have been a real acquaintance of a boisterous child as her own. Yet she could read his sincerity and the deep sadness in his eyes. She moved aside to let that unknown man in her home._

_Asami nervously walked by Akihito's mother. While he was taking off his shoes in the entryway, he took a look at her. He realized who the young man had inherited his impish look from. Mrs Takaba was about fifty but she looked at least ten years younger. Her lips were pinched and her eyes red, but one could tell she must be beautiful when she smiles, as her son had been. He felt a pang thinking about his deceased lover._

_He put his shoes near the dozen others which were already displayed on the entry's floor. With a wave of her hand and a nod, Mrs Takaba showed him the way to the living-room. From the entryway he could already hear the muffled sounds of tears and sobs. He entered the narrow corridor, noticing the bouquets of flowers that were shrinking it even. There was a lot, and almost all of them were exquisite. They were proof of everybody's attachment to Akihito._

_He went in the living-room. It was a relatively spacious room getting plenty of light from the large picture window on his right. At the back, an altar had been installed where family and friends had put a couple of candles and a box of incense sticks. The sheet covering the low piece of furniture used as an altar was immaculate and rimmed with lace. A sole white rose in a soliflore stood with the ritual objects. On his left, against the wall, Akihito was laying…_

_Asami gave an imperceptible start when he realized that the Takaba had chosen to show their deceased's body in his coffin, the occidental way. He was irresistibly drawn to Akihito. Fighting against his impulse, he decided to follow Mrs Takaba who introduced her husband to him. Asami plunged his hand in his vest and took out an envelope, then he bowed respectfully while offering it. Akihito's father was noticeably older than his wife. His greying hair and the deep lines of his wrinkles showed this. He too was marked by the grief. He bowed in turn and accepted the envelope._

"_Thank you for coming, he said. I'm sure he would have liked to know you were thinking about him."_

_It was just a polite phrase, since the Takaba ignored the relationship he had with their son, but it deeply touched Asami. After all, during their last conversation – or what would be the closest to a conversation for them – Akihito had confessed his feelings. Of course he would have liked to know Asami was thinking about him. He even would have wished to hear it from him that night, but he didn't say anything. And look where he was now._

_Akihito's father turned the envelope over in his hand and his face's colour changed when he read the written figures. He looked desperately at Asami, speechless._

"_Your son was worth it and more" he answered the silent question._

_With these words, Mr Takaba took the businessman's hands in his own and squeezed hard while a tear ran down his cheek. Asami modestly left the grieving Takaba and went to the white glossy coffin. It seemed Akihito's family chose that colour to show the deceased's purity. Asami had to admit that, despite the torments he had to endure, Akihito had been able to keep a bit of his innocence along with a pure heart._

_In front of the wooden box, two young men were kneeling, one of them crying on the other's shoulder. Asami recognized Akihito's friends, the ones he had involuntarily helped getting free when Fei Long took them as hostages. Asami stayed behind until they left then took their place._

_Draped in pearly satin and dressed in white, Akihito was peacefully laying. If Asami hadn't known how he died, he could have thought it happened while sleeping since his smile seemed so natural. But he knew the truth. Once again he was overwhelmed with anger. The aggressors' slaughtering hadn't been enough to ease his grief, and now he didn't have that outlet anymore. He kept looking at the young man's still face, as if expecting to see him wake up anytime. But the more time pass, the more he understood it wasn't possible: the body in front of him was nothing more than an empty shell and Akihito, hopefully, had already left for a better world. Though he couldn't stop from touching him one last time, brushing against his cheek. Then he turned around and left the Takaba's home._

* * *

Asami stretched his hand to the little digital camera on his desk. He had offered it to Akihito at the time of their holidays in the islands, after they had flown from Hong Kong. Only one picture had been taken with it, and Akihito admitted it was one of Asami himself.

That was when he gave the camera to the young man who thanked him with a huge smile that he had realized how important the photographer was for him. Soon after their return in Japan, Akihito had given it back to him, thanking him again but saying that he now wanted to go back to his normal life: he would use his analogue cameras again and get back to work. The poor boy almost succeeded…

He didn't regret what they had together. But Asami decided at this moment to never let anyone else come in his life like Akihito did. He didn't believe in forever or love stronger than Death. He was sure his feelings would come to pass in due time. But he refused to be responsible for an innocent's death ever again. Now he would live with his remorse.

Asami stood up, walked around his desk and looked one last time through the window before leaving the room, thinking about Akihito's last words on Earth, which had been for him: "Asami?"

The End


End file.
